by C. J. Miller
Gemma flicked her tongue out and licked the head of his arousal. Rafe bucked in his seat.
When her mouth closed over him, he let out a groan. Using her hand and her mouth, she stroked and sucked, alternating her touch between feather light and just shy of rough.
He stroked his hand down her cheek and she lifted her face to meet his gaze.
When their eyes connected, he went off in her mouth.
She didn’t release him until every drop was spent. Then she crawled up his body and kissed his closed eyes.
“Gemma, that was awesome.”
She hadn’t enjoyed pleasuring a man that much before. She had felt powerful and excited too. “Thank you.”
“Tell me what you like. Let me make you feel good.” His hand moved down her body to her rear end. He gave it a light slap.
She liked that. But she wanted more than a quick orgasm in Rafe’s car. She wanted him to think about her mouth on him and what else she could do and come to her, night after night. Gemma craved the power.
“Later.”
He lifted his head. “Later?”
“I’ll let you know when and how I want it.”
Chapter 5
Since the explosive incident in his car two days ago, Rafe had kept his distance from her. Had she spooked him with how easily they had gone from driving in the car to Gemma’s mouth on him in the most intimate way? She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
They hadn’t so much as brushed by each other in the lab. The shift they had worked together had been tense, all business with no mention of what had happened. Was he waiting for her to bring it up? Initiate another encounter?
Gemma gathered up their notes. She and Rafe had been diligently writing about their progress. Other members of the clinic were assisting in the lab, but only she and Rafe knew about their backup plan. She would do everything she could to keep their notes safe.
She pulled on her coat and gloves, tucking the folder into her handbag and zipping it. Wyoming in winter could be brutally cold. She didn’t need papers about the virus blowing down Main Street.
Gemma walked at a quick clip toward the library. It wasn’t far from the clinic and it wasn’t worth driving the short distance.
She had been alone on Main Street the time she’d been attacked and since then, she had harbored a strange, fear-fuelled response every time she walked unaccompanied from the clinic. Her brother had tried to find her attacker, but since she couldn’t identify him or give any clues to his identity, he had no leads.
Gemma didn’t have many enemies in Dead River. She worked hard to make that the case. The quarantine had created a peculiar reaction in some of the residents, propelling people to act in a manner they wouldn’t have otherwise. The wind was blowing hard and Gemma kept her head down and pulled her hood up, tightening the straps under her chin.
Her bag grew heavier and she reached for it, whirling when she felt it being pulled away.
She came face-to-face with a masked man. The last time she had been attacked, she had fought back. This time would be no different. After a brief impulse to hold onto the bag, she released it. Their notes weren’t anything to lose her life over.
The man—or woman—it was difficult to tell under the winter coat, scarf and ski mask, held her bag and circled her. Gemma stood in the self-protective stance she had learned in her defense class. “Leave me alone!” she screamed. “Get away from me.”
The attacker lunged at her, punching her in the shoulder. Gemma tried to turn and run, but the attacker grabbed her by her jacket and flung her to the ground. He was strong. The sensation of the cold ground was second to the pain of her knees and hands hitting the concrete. She rolled, putting distance between herself and the attacker. She had to flee. She climbed to her feet and ran, expecting the attacker would give chase.
When she turned around, she was again alone on the street. Was he lying in wait to attack her again?
Gemma raced for the nearest business, Dead River Hardware. Gemma ran inside, the heat of the store stinging her face. She collected herself. She was shaking and scared and dizzy with panic.
The salesclerk came from behind her cash register. “You all right, honey?”
She wasn’t all right. “Please call the police. Call Flint. Someone attacked me.”
* * *
“You need to come with me to the clinic so I can assess your injuries,” Rafe said. When he finally found the man who had attacked Gemma, he would kill him. Without hesitation. The idea of someone laying their hands on Gemma in a rage infuriated Rafe. He wasn’t a violent man, but when someone he cared about was under attack, his sense of civility and calm disappeared.
Gemma shook her head. “Someone stole my bag and my notes. That’s the most important thing.”
Rafe didn’t care about the notes or the bag. “Why are you so stubborn about this? You need a medical assessment.”
Gemma blew out her breath. “Me? I am talking to Mr. Stubborn.”
Flint stepped between them. “Okay, you two. Take it easy. Let me get some details from Gemma and then I want her to go with you to the clinic. Please make sure she’s okay.”
Rafe took a step away so Flint could talk to his sister.
Rafe should have followed Gemma when she left the clinic. He had seen her putting on her coat and he had suspected she was carrying through their plan to conceal their notes safely at the Dead River library. Why hadn’t he accompanied her?
He’d been working with their virus samples, but it could have waited an hour.
Rafe was feeling uneasy about what had happened between them in the car on the way to Trevor and Gabriella’s ranch. Why had he let the heat escalate to the point that Gemma had him in the palm of her hand? Gemma had been like a siren. He couldn’t stop her and he couldn’t tell her no. Not that he’d wanted to. The warnings from her brothers to stay away from Gemma and his short time in Dead River had drifted away when her petite hands had touched him.
After that incident between them, awkward or not, he should have followed his protective instinct and made sure she was safe. Someone was attacking the staff at the clinic, and Hank Bittard, the escaped killer, was still free and could be responsible. While Rafe didn’t know why Hank would target the clinic, it was a terrifying thought.
If Flint couldn’t provide around-the-clock security, then Rafe would step in. When he’d heard and seen the ambulance and Flint’s police car race past the clinic, he had known something was wrong.
Feeling agitated with himself, he returned to where Gemma was speaking to Flint.
“There’s good news from this,” Flint said.
Good news was welcome. Rafe waited.
“Gemma doesn’t believe her attacker was Danny.”
Rafe could have kissed her. Again. Of course the attacker wasn’t Danny and if the person who had attacked Dr. Rand and Gemma were one in the same, then that supported his conviction that Danny wasn’t involved.
“Did you see who attacked you?” Rafe asked.
Gemma nodded. “He or she was wearing a ski mask. I think it was a man based on the build and the height, but it could have been a woman. He was wearing sun glasses, but it definitely wasn’t Danny.”
“Will you let me take you to the clinic now?” Rafe asked.
“It’s a waste of time. I’m fine.”
She needed to be assessed and she should speak with a nurse about the incident. “If you were in my shoes, would you let that fly?” he asked.
The corner of Gemma’s mouth lifted. “Not a chance. I would demand an assessment.”
“Then don’t argue,” Rafe said gently. “Tonight, you’re coming to stay with me, at least until we catch this guy.”
“What?” Gemma asked, shaking her head. She looked at her brother and jerked her thumb in
Rafe’s direction. “He’s crazy.”
He wasn’t crazy. He was trying to ensure she was safe. “Living alone isn’t safe.”
Gemma narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m safe in my home.”
Flint seemed unsure. “Maybe you should stay with him. Or with me.”
“You need privacy with Nina. I’d feel like I was in the way.”
Flint folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t make me pull Theo into this. We’ll gang up on you.”
“Not that staying with my niece and Ellie is any cross to bear, but I like my space and my privacy. Besides, driving from the clinic to the ranch every day is too far.”
It was the second time she’d been attacked. Rafe wouldn’t let her dig in her heels about this.
Rafe was accustomed to getting what he wanted. He would find a way to convince Gemma she was safer staying with him. Was it the attraction between them giving her pause? “I have three bedrooms. I have an office on the main floor if you’d prefer that. I will give you space.”
Gemma inclined her head and Rafe almost thought he could hear what she was thinking. Staying in the same house with him was removing a number of barriers between them. When they were alone, something might happen.
“No. That’s my final answer. I have some say over my life. I am staying at my place.”
“We can talk about it later,” Rafe said, willing to let the conversation end now. Let her have a few hours to think about what had happened and what could have happened. He didn’t feel good about her being alone. Being attacked twice and being on staff at the clinic were dangers enough.
Back at the clinic, Gemma allowed him to lead her to an examination room. He handed her a cloth gown and Gemma folded her arms over her chest. “I do not need that detailed of an exam.”
Rafe took a deep breath. He’d worked enough years in the ER to anticipate the worst when a woman reported she’d been attacked. He was trying to be professional about this and treat Gemma as if she were any other patient. Ignoring his rage for her attacker and focusing on her health was hard enough. “Would you like a female staff member to examine you?”
Gemma took his arm. “Listen to me. You’re worse than Theo and Flint. I fell. My knees hurt. I didn’t even break the skin.”
“You were attacked. I need you to tell me if it was worse than you told your brother. I know it can be hard for people to relive the experience, especially this close to the incident. And to tell your brother...” Rafe swallowed the unexpected emotion. He touched the side of Gemma’s face gently, as softly as he could. “I can’t bear to think about something happening to you.”
Gemma put her hands around his wrist. “I am fine. I will show you myself. I’ll have a nasty bruise on my shoulder and knees and I know what you’re worried about because I would too. Believe me when I tell you it wasn’t a vicious attack.”
Rafe let his forehead fall against hers. “I shouldn’t have let you leave alone.”
“I’m a grown woman. You don’t let me do anything. I make my own decisions.”
Why did that turn him on? He shouldn’t be thinking about sex with her. He should be worried about conducting an examination and writing a detailed report for the police with any findings. Being alone with Gemma did crazy things to his head and his pulse. “Let me look you over and then I’ll take you home to rest.”
Gemma removed her coat. She was wearing her scrubs. The pant legs had been frayed where she’d fallen. Rafe rolled her pants legs to look at her knees. Though her pants were likely ruined, the skin beneath was red, but not torn.
“Why don’t I ask Anand or Felicia to come talk to you?” Rafe asked. Gemma had reassured him she wasn’t hurt too badly, but sometimes talking to a friend was easier than talking to a doctor, and Rafe didn’t know if Gemma considered him a friend. He didn’t give Gemma a chance to say no.
He found Anand working in the triage area. After he’d finished with his patient, Anand went to speak with Gemma, and Rafe took over with the patient.
They’d been lucky that a few bumps and bruises were the extent of how hurt Gemma had been. It could have been worse and Rafe refused to let it escalate. Gemma was coming to live with him or he and Danny would live with her.
* * *
Rafe had given her a pair of his scrub pants, which were too big, but after tightening the drawstring and rolling the legs, they’d worked. He’d wanted her to go to his place and even after her protests of her home being safe, Gemma didn’t feel like being alone.
Since her shift had ended, she decided to help the ongoing effort to clean up the patient records area. Their front desk admin, Cathleen, had picked up most of the paperwork from the floor, but the files and folders were disorganized in stacks on her desk. She was working through filing them as her time allowed.
Gemma had only started on a few folders when she heard shouting from the doctor’s office area. Worried it was another attack, she grabbed a pair of scissors from Cathleen’s desk, the only weapon in sight. Dread in her stomach, Gemma ran to investigate.
Felicia was standing in the doorway to Lucas Rand’s office.
“I quit! I can’t do this anymore! Working all the time and being exposed to that virus. We’ll all catch it and die. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it!”
Gemma couldn’t hear Dr. Rand’s reply.
Felicia threw up her hands. “You can’t know that. No one can know that. This virus will kill everyone in this town.”
“We need you, Felicia. Please don’t give up,” Dr. Rand said.
“I have to give up. I can’t take it. I can’t live like this anymore.” She turned on her heels and left.
Felicia stopped as she passed Gemma. “If you’re smart, you’ll quit too and spend what’s left of your life having a little fun.”
Felicia stormed out of the clinic. Dr. Rand came out of his office. He looked exhausted and frazzled. As the director of the clinic, he’d been in charge of arranging the staff’s schedules. Dr. Goodhue had had some say in it, but they were already stretched thin and if today wasn’t just Felicia blowing off stress, they were in deeper trouble.
Gemma considered returning to her filing task. Since her brother and Mimi’s brief affair had become public, her relationship with Dr. Rand had been awkward. Gemma had never asked him why his ex-wife’s affair bothered him, and Gemma wondered if he’d been harboring unresolved feelings for Mimi. She decided she could be a friend. Dr. Rand looked like he needed one. “What was that about?” Gemma asked. It wasn’t like Felicia to scream and lose it.
Dr. Rand looked at Gemma. “She was at her breaking point. Working too hard. She asked to talk with me and then she got more and more upset. I tried to calm her down, but she wanted to quit.” His words were clipped.
Gemma nodded. “Maybe she needs a couple of days to cool down.” Sleep and rest could help. She was needed at the clinic.
Dr. Rand shrugged. “She doesn’t believe we’ll find a cure. I know that we will.”
Dr. Goodhue joined them in the hall, and Gemma was grateful for the lessening of awkwardness. Dr. Rand wasn’t over Theo and Mimi’s affair and he somehow held it against her. Dr. Goodhue appeared flustered. “I overheard part of what Felicia said. We can’t think that way. We can’t think a cure won’t be found. But morale has taken a few hits lately and I’ve been thinking about our situation. It’s hard on everyone. I’m going to convert our storage trailer into a doctor-and-nurse lounge. We can move the remaining supplies into the clinic. When you need a break, please go out to the lounge and take it. We can’t keep working this way without everyone losing it.”
It was a gesture that could help. Being in the clinic, the lab and the virus wing for so much of the week was wearing them down and exhaustion could lead to mistakes. A few minutes away—and not a few minutes standing in the Wyoming cold, outside the clinic—
could help. Maybe even twenty minutes to sit and eat or to lie down and take the edge off their stress. “That’s thoughtful of you, Dr. Goodhue.”
“Wouldn’t that space be better used for more patient rooms?” Dr. Rand asked.
Dr. Goodhue shook her head. “I don’t have the equipment or ventilation to extend the virus wing any further. I’ve requested more BSL-4 space and I’ve been told the CDC is working on it. If we don’t keep our staff on board, I don’t have to remind you of the consequences.”
Consequences like no cure being found. Lives at stake. Families torn apart.
* * *
Molly Colton picked up an orange crayon to color the picture on the opposite side of Annabelle’s coloring book from where the little girl was scribbling. Molly could see Danny through the bay window at the front of the house, dribbling a basketball in the driveway. Rafe Granger, the sexy doctor at the clinic, had asked her to keep an eye on him and since Molly was already watching Annabelle, she was double-babysitting. Gemma and Rafe’d had some trouble—even more trouble—at the clinic and it had everyone worried.
In Molly’s thinking, the whole town was nothing but trouble and no one could escape it. Maybe if she saved her waitressing tips for the next gazillion years, she could take a trip far away. That is, if the quarantine was lifted before the virus killed everyone.
A man walked up the driveway and Molly rose to her feet. She didn’t like strangers approaching the house or Danny. Though it didn’t look like an escaped killer—alleged escaped killer, she sarcastically corrected—she hadn’t gotten a good look at his face and too much weirdness was going on in Dead River.
“Annabelle, I’m going to check on Danny. Stay here, okay?” Molly grabbed her coat and her cell phone and dashed outside.
“Danny!” she called.
He was already at the end of the driveway talking to the stranger. Danny looked over his shoulder and the other man lifted his head.
Molly’s breath caught in her throat. Not the face of a killer. He had the face of an incredibly, strikingly handsome man, strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones and a straight aquiline nose. Not that Molly would let herself be tricked again by a pretty face. This man’s build and outfit spoke of hard work, whether it was the muddy jeans or the worn cowboy hat on his head. Molly walked down the driveway, her shoes feeling clunky.